


Back to You, Al

by the_deep_magic



Category: Actor RPF, Star Trek RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-28
Updated: 2009-11-28
Packaged: 2017-10-19 05:30:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/197436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_deep_magic/pseuds/the_deep_magic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Saw a tweet and Tyler's having Thanksgiving with Zachary and 'friends'. Chris is jealous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Back to You, Al

It was late when Zach finally got home, and he was surprised to see that Noah had already been fed and put in his crate for the night. The lights were out in the living room, but the TV was on, blasting the sounds of the pre-recorded Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade at the lumpy figure on the couch. Chris.

“Thought we were going to watch this together,” Zach said. No response. “You asleep?” He came around the front of the couch – Chris was not, in fact, asleep, but was so pointedly Not Looking at Zach that his eyes were eerily glued to Al Roker on the screen. “You’re not still mad at me, are you?”

Chris said nothing, just held tighter to Harold on his lap. The cat, of course, didn’t like that at all, and after a bit of hissing and scratching, Chris finally let him go. Harold sauntered off into the darkness and Chris glared after him. “Traitor,” he muttered.

“I’m not apologizing again,” Zach groaned as he plopped down on the couch. “You’re just going to have to put on your Big Girl panties and get over it. Tyler was right there when Joe cancelled on me – I couldn’t turn down his invitation. Besides, I’m not sure your mom likes me anyway.”

Chris picked up the remote to fast forward through the commercials, and Zach jumped a little when Chris interrupted the temporary silence. “She doesn’t like you. She thinks you’re a tool.”

“Your mother did not call me a tool.”

“She would if she knew the colloquialism.” He hit the play button and yet another high school marching band began another chipper salute to the American Dream or whatever. “ _I_ think you’re a tool.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I wish you’d been with me. Tyler’s girlfriend’s best friend got wasted and started talking about how in love she is with the sparkly Twilight vampire. I did the best I could, but between the two of us, we could’ve achieved new heights in mockery.” Still staring at the TV, Chris started to smile, but it turned into a grimace. “Family was that bad, huh?” Zach asked.

“No. Well, one of the aunts did tell me I was going to hell for unnatural perversions, but my sister told her in great detail where she could shove the turkey leg, so it kind of evened out. But mostly I ate too damn much and my stomach hurts.” As if on cue, a horrible gurgling noise emanated from Chris’ midsection and it seemed to remind him of his mood. “And I’m not talking to you.”

Zach sighed and stretched out behind Chris on the couch. “Fine, no talking. But at least lay down so I can see the TV.” Chris grudgingly obliged, settling his head on the cushion just below Zach’s chin.

The sofa was far too small for both of them – their feet stuck awkwardly over the side and Zach had to wrap his arm around Chris to keep him from falling off the front – but if they pressed together closely enough, it was passably comfortable. Zach tugged Chris shirt up and the younger man made a noise as if to protest, but then fell silent as Zach’s warm hand began to rub slow circles on his stomach. Chris gradually relaxed, sighing contentedly. “Wow,” Zach murmured, “You really are just an overgrown puppy.”

“’F you wanted me to stick my nose in your crotch, all you had to do was ask,” Chris said, trying to sound sullen and failing spectacularly.

Zach chuckled. He heard a sound from the other end of the couch and craned his neck up to see Harold jump up onto the arm, then work his way across the back of the couch and down to curl up neatly. Right on Zach’s head. The cat’s tail batted him in the nose and he snorted, trying to dislodge Harold without pushing all three of them off the couch. He was unsuccessful. “Chris,” he said, spitting out a few hairs. “Mind sitting up for a sec so I can get the cat off my face?”

“Nope,” muttered Chris, wiggling back against Zach and settling in. “Too comfortable.” Then, quietly: “Good kitty.”


End file.
